Under the cold, frozen night sky, the silence was shattered by the sound of clashing metal.

However, the noise didn’t last long.
At most, it continued for about two hours.

When the last remaining breath finally ceased, the sound of metal transformed into the roar of victory.

"Your Highness, congratulations on your victory."

The old knight, his face covered in wrinkles, bowed deeply, bending his steel-like back.

Under the moonlight, golden hair gleamed even more brightly, and from between its strands, red eyes shone with a chilling light.

Princess Morgana von Rubellion Lagna.
She spoke coldly in her own voice.

"We have not completely won yet.
I will not allow complacency until we march our soldiers and seize the Count’s territory."

"My apologies, Your Highness. Please forgive this old man’s mistake."

"It’s fine.
The soldiers must be exhausted from the forced march.
We’ll set up camp near the Count’s territory for now and send a messenger tomorrow."

Of course, the princess already knew that the Count’s forces had been completely crushed.

But war was full of variables.
After all, hadn’t she herself turned her army around because of one unexpected variable?

However, the variable she personally faced turned out to be far more trivial than she expected.

"You did well to ignore rumors and see through the soldiers’ exhaustion, but… you were too hasty, Sir Blackguard."

According to the squad stationed not far from the Count’s territory, the Count’s remaining forces numbered barely a thousand.

Adding that to the intelligence gathered by spies over two weeks, as well as the information reported by the intelligence unit, it matched perfectly.

A full-scale battle would be suicide.
And her opponent knew that better than anyone.

‘Even if defending is usually easier than attacking, with such a vast difference in strength, that advantage means nothing.
He must know that too.’

In other words, the one forced to make the first move would naturally be the enemy.

In such a situation, the usual approach was to lead a cavalry unit to strike a supply base and retreat quickly.

Maintaining an army of fifty thousand required enormous supplies, after all.

But there was no way Princess Morgana didn’t know that simple fact.

At the start of the war, she had split her fifty-thousand-strong army into two—thirty thousand in the main force and twenty thousand in a secondary unit.

The order she gave the secondary force was to fully occupy the eastern region and maintain and protect the supply lines.

However, direct resupply from the Empire was inefficient, so they had to capture provisions and equipment directly.

And yet, the very center of her plan—the Sandwy Count’s territory—had been retaken.

By a single man, no less.
It was almost laughable, but there was no point denying reality or assigning blame.

Such actions were meaningless.
It was far better to use that time fixing the mistake.

‘That’s why I had already positioned ten thousand soldiers to the east to cut off any escape and prepare for encirclement… but I never expected him to choose an ambush in this situation.’

She had blocked the eastern side with the remaining troops, excluding the ten thousand soldiers guarding the supply lines.

Then, leaving behind another detachment to block any reinforcements from the royal capital, she had driven the main force of twenty thousand in from the west.

It was a perfect execution of the hammer and anvil tactic.
Even if she had been ambushed, she had anticipated the possibility and prepared accordingly, so the losses were minimal.

Still, it had been a bold and commendable move.

Usually, people trembled and blamed witchcraft when strange things occurred, but a wise commander never let rumors sway them.

Realizing that the army must be exhausted after covering a month’s distance in just fifteen days, and choosing to prepare an ambush, was undeniably daring.

"You fought bravely until the very end.
It’s just that your opponent was unfortunate."

If her opponent hadn’t been herself, he might have won.

But her title was Thousand Nets—a name meaning a web spread across the heavens and earth.
True to that name, she could predict and counter every move her enemies made.

Still, Morgana paid respect to her opponent, who had fought valiantly to the end, before leading her main army toward the Sandwy Count’s territory.

Without Kain Blackguard, the rallying figure of resistance, their morale would surely collapse.

Once she reunited with the detached unit and completely occupied the eastern region, restoring the supply lines, the Empire would claim victory in this war.

Though it meant they wouldn’t be able to end the war within a year, they could still finish it before the allied nations intervened.

……It would’ve been better if I had just died.

I let out a ragged breath filled with despair as I opened my eyes again.

Once more, I had returned to the past.
But this time, there was no time to spare.
Only one day remained before the main army’s arrival.

A siege was impossible.
Once the encirclement was complete, we’d starve to death.

Even though we had far more supplies stored in the Count’s territory than before…

Eventually, once surrounded, we would inevitably fall first—unlike the Empire, which had continuous supplies.

If we stayed trapped here, defeat was inevitable.
That meant I had to take action personally.

At first, I planned to lead the cavalry out, hide in the forest, and strike the enemy’s main force from behind while they besieged the castle.

A direct confrontation was hopeless.
I had to create an irregular variable somehow.

"There he is! Over there!"

"Kain Blackguard is there!"

"…You’ve got to be f*cking kidding me. That detached Imperial unit had set up camp to the east?!"

The Imperial squad that had retreated earlier had secretly built a camp in the east.

Unaware of that, I had only been guarding the Rock Iron direction.

That day, I learned firsthand the importance of reconnaissance and intelligence gathering.
Unfortunately, it was far too late.

"Ughhh!!"

"Please! Spare me!"

"……"

Sheep led by lions can never defeat lions led by sheep.

Just as the saying went, I paid dearly for my failure—through the deaths of those who had followed me in faith.

Screams filled with terror, and the horrifying sound of metal slicing through flesh…

I had no choice but to watch it all unfold until the very end.

Time rewound again.
But the images burned into my mind never faded, no matter how often I returned.

Ah, so this was the weight a commander bore.

With a single mistake, countless people died.
And that burden fell entirely on me.
It was an unbearable truth.

But failure repeated itself.
I used every tactic I knew.

Deception, feints, even the infamous sacrifice strategy.

"So, you mean to deceive the enemy into thinking a civil war broke out?"

"I’m sorry, Sir Belgard. You’re the only one who can do this."

"Don’t worry, Baron. I will make sure the mission succeeds."

That night, Sir Belgard’s severed head was delivered into the fortress via catapult.

The image of his smiling face, telling me to trust him until the end, haunted my mind.

I piled up countless failures.
The difference was, I was no longer the only corpse on that pile.

At first, only my body had fallen.
But now, the bodies of others began to join the heap.

[You said we could win!!]

[P-please spare me, my lord!!!]

[I should’ve never trusted you! You f*cking bastard—Aaaagh!!]

"……"

With each defeat, their cries of hatred pierced my chest like arrows.

I was the culprit.
Someone who had never even commanded an army before—how could I hope to defeat the veteran Imperial forces?

Yet every time I lost, time dragged me back to the beginning again.

And pushed me forward once more.

So I was forced to move my blood-soaked feet through countless fields of despair.

Failure was never forgiven, but victory was never shown either.

And so, I kept racking my brain.
Desperately seeking a way to win.

But every shallow idea I came up with was blocked perfectly—as if I were a fish caught in a net.

‘The ambush from before lasted the longest and had the best odds… Wait.’

How long had I walked this bloodstained path?
My worn-out mind barely managed to grasp a thread of truth.

The clue came from a sense of wrongness.
Not once had I ever thought fighting the Empire was “manageable.”

So why did I feel that way then?

Chasing that unease, I reached a plausible conclusion.

"The Imperial main force must be completely exhausted from the forced march…?"

At first, I thought they used magic.
Or maybe potions.

But if they had such magic or potions without any cost, the capital would’ve fallen long ago.

Even if not, marching a month’s distance in fifteen days had to have worn them out.

Why had I only realized that now?

Maybe it was because, after dying so many times, I had subconsciously started believing the Empire was an invincible monster without weakness.

But the fact remained: a head-on battle was hopeless.

We had to create a variable.
And if there was one effective variable left…

"…Capture the enemy commander and negotiate directly with the Empire."

It was a faint hope—but one worth trying.

I had already lost countless times, leading countless loyal men to their deaths.

But swallowing my collapsing despair, I once again set out on a blood-soaked path.

For me now, even despair was a luxury.

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